Page 18 of Beyond The Maples
If I'm being honest with myself, this plan came to me so quickly because I had already played out this entire scenario. It's a nasty habit I'd gotten into, inherited from my worrying mother and her mother before that, I think. I often cycle through all the worst-case scenarios in my head. Planning escape routes and ways out of situations, should the worst happen, had become second nature at a young age. It only worsened once we'd lost mom.
I suspect it's a way my brain prepares me for tragedy, softening the blows of life with dark preparation. Sometimes my mind will go so long through the worst possible outcomes of life that I'll lie awake at night, exhausted in a sheen of sweat.
Not feeling ready, I decide to get it over with and push through the doors. A beady-eyed man stares at me from behind the counter, and another sitting to his left greets me with a nod.
"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt. But... I'd like to enlist."
Both men gawk at me. I simply smile and shrug.
A half-hour later and I have signed most of the necessary papers. The man behind the desk, whose name I've already forgotten, is clearly in charge. He explains everything to me like I speak another language.
"After signing this last form, you hereby belong to New Providence until your term is complete. You agree to serve this country and all that it stands for until your term is over. If you survive the first four years, you may opt out, or re-conscript. If you abandon your pledge, we consider it treason. You have twenty-four hours from the time you sign until you leave." He studies me, watching intently as his words sink in.
"Twenty-four hours, that's it?" I question, chewing on the inside of my lip. The conscription contract is longer than I thought. I thought it was two years. Did they change that? It's also less time before I leave than I'd hoped. One day to pack up my life and leave. I swallow bile that’s slowly creeping up my throat at the notion.
"Yes, Miss Treow. Too many change their minds and try their hands on the road." He takes off his glasses and rubs his worn and weary eyes with the heels of his hands.
I ball my hands into fists, cracking my knuckles as I recognize only now that I really don't know what I'm signing up for. I know the mortality rate of soldiers is high, but I have no clue why. I don't even recall how I know that for certain.
"Can I ask you a question?"
The man behind the counter grunts with a nod.
"Is New Providence officially at war? Where does most of the fighting occur? Why don't more people sign up when the benefits are so good?" I stop myself, because while I do have several more questions, I don't want to overwhelm them.
The man’s eyes widen and he wipes a hand down his face, glancing over at his friend who's still sitting in the same chair, stoic, like some sortof ancient statue.
The friend clears his throat. "This is exactly why you have no business enlisting. No, we're not technically at war, but we've never truly stopped fighting with the other territories, namely Zaphira. Soland can't get their shit together enough to be a threat, and they’re happy in their filth. Soldiers are constantly defending our borders, holding the line. Then there's the barrier. Our forces are always divided. We're surrounded on all sides by enemies."
Shit. My jaw aches from how hard I'm clenching it as I listen.
"Reconsider this. I'm sure there are other options to make money around here for a young girl like yourself," says the man at the desk.
I curl my lip slightly at the insinuation.
"I'm sure there is, but this is a better option for me."
"An option to stay home in a warm bed or two is better than dying young, girl."
I turn my head slowly. I'm quickly losing patience. Rarely do I let my calm facade slip in public, but they are grinding through my last nerves.
"If you two love the option of the skin trade so thoroughly, why don't you give it a go? Neither of you are overly pretty, but I'm sure if you can work together, people will give you a good price. Two-for-one, if you will."
I give them both a snotty look. A challenge. Daring them to continue on, the first tired, beady-eyed man behind the counter bursts into laughter.
"Keep that fire stoked, Miss, and you might be ok."
I nod at him with a half grin and ask the only questions I need answered before I sign.
"My siblings will get my full benefits, medical? And death pay should I pass?"
The man eyes me and I see a sudden sadness pass through his features.
"They'll be taken care of," he promises.
I lift the pen and sign, then gather the few papers, which includes a packing list and itinerary before giving both men a distracted "thanks" on my way out.
A few minutes later and I'm strolling through the diner doors on a mission, nerves taking over as I spot all the familiar faces getting ready for a busy evening. I glance around, hoping Giles doesn't make a huge scene when I tell him I'm leavingtomorrow. I don't see him, so I go to the back in search of Chef, the only person perhaps, other than Hollis, I care to tell I'm leaving. I see the old woman in the back, tossing around empty crates and grumbling. I lean against the wall, and a nostalgic feeling pulls my stomach. I'll miss this old fire sprite.
